Four Years On
by foraworldundeserving
Summary: But the worst thing out of all of it was waking up every morning, making his bed perfectly and going out to line up; all the while knowing that he wasn't going to see Kurt today. Or tomorrow. Or even next week. Not for four long years.


**This continues on from Chapter 216 of _Kiss_. If you haven't read any of _Kiss_, you may want to just locate that chapter. It isn't 100% necessary though, I'll do a quick summary.**

**Basically, Blaine joined the army on a four year service plan. Four years away from home, then he could return. He did this for the same reason that a lot of my friends are planning to go to the mines for a few years - money. That way he didn't have to worry about it for the future and go on with pursuing music. Also, his parents were pressing for it. He and Kurt had been dating for a few months against his better judgement, and he had to say goodbye to Kurt. He told Kurt not to wait for him and Kurt kissed him (for the first time) and said he would. That's where that ended. **

**I have never been in the army. I don't have any idea of what does on there except for brutal training. So if I make any mistakes, I apologize, but this is one topic that I couldn't handle doing extensive research for. I've made up Blaine's program completely too. I also know America refers to it as the military (I think) so you'll have to forgive my Australianisms here.**

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><p>Four years.<p>

When he had first signed up for the program, it looked like it wasn't going to be too long. After all, four years before his sign up, he had been walking into the doors of Dalton for the first time. And on the day of his graduation, he couldn't say where that time had gone.

But after the first day, Blaine realized that this four years was going to be a long time.

Of course the program was going to be brutal - his father had been in the army and had told him all of his horror stories - but Blaine simply wasn'tprepared for the early morning wake up, the hours upon hours of training, the absolute standard of perfectionrequired. He adjusted quickly, or at least as well as he could adjust, and even began to enjoy the schedule. Blaine had always been one for routine after all.

But the worst thing out of all of it was waking up every morning, making his bed perfectly and going out to line up; all the while knowing that he wasn't going to see Kurt today. Or tomorrow. Or even next week. Not for four long years.

All he could rely on was the letters. And the first one came three weeks into his training.

_Dear Blaine,_

_Well, I have absolutely no idea what to write. You've been gone a week - though I know it'll be longer when you get this - and according to Finn, I've been a zombie. A productive one though, I'm all packed up and ready to go to New York. Dad's been trying to hold it together, but I know he'll struggle when I actually do go. _

_I hope things are well for you. I could never imagine doing what you're doing, and I hope you know how brave I think you are. Please, please stay safe. _

_I'll leave it here until I hear from you. _

_All my love,_

_Kurt_

Blaine's smile upon reading the letter alerted his friends to the fact that there was a significant other back home. He simply shrugged when pressed for details - after all, the world was evolving but the army was still one of those grey areas. And for a group of guys who lived together, having a known homosexual amongst them wouldn't necessarily go down well.

So he simply kept quiet, replied, and waited on the next letter.

* * *

><p>Keeping track of time wasn't something that Blaine had ever struggled with, but finding out that one year had already passed was a huge surprise to him. He honestly hadn't thought he would settle into things so well.<p>

The loneliness still kicked in constantly. Yes he was surrounded by other guys, but he now knew how it felt to be alone in a crowded room. Nobody was quitelike Blaine, and while he tried to fit in (and succeeded fairly well), there were times when he just wanted to be alone. To have his guitar, to lose himself in music, to perform again. And, more than anything he wished to sing with Kurt. Not only to sing, but to have and hold and be with and kiss and _love_. Love and be loved.

But there was no music. And there was no Kurt.

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><p>Blaine knew he would look back on this experience and have no clue what to say.<p>

Yes, he was only sixteen months in, but already he couldn't describe anything. He could remember it all as if it had all happened yesterday. The vigorous training was normal to them now, but every day brought a new discovery, a new memory to impale itself in their minds to never be forgotten.

The rest of the men with him were in the same boat. They had all gone through things that nobody at home could ever understand. And their letters home all bore the signs of this, as did the responses.

_Dear Blaine,_

_I wish I had some kind of response to what you said. But we knew it would be like this. So, like you asked, I'll tell you about me._

_I'm in my second year, of course. They're teaching us the proper techniques of creating a label and apparently I'm top of my class. And I've already made a few outfits that have caught some eyes, so there might be a promising future for me earlier than I thought!_

_But I can't stop thinking about you, out there on your own. And I can't help but feel bad because I'm sitting here, doing the easy thing. _

_Don't die. That looks stupid already and I want to cross it out, but I won't. Because it's true. Please don't._

_Love Kurt._

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><p>There were two things that Blaine knew he would never be able to explain to the people back home.<p>

First, how it felt to fire a gun. Of course others knew, David had always talked about hunting with his father, and other Warblers were the same. But to fire a gun, knowing that some day someone would be giving you that same gun and telling you to shoot another man - that was a whole other world. And on that day, when Blaine was handed that gun and told it was time, he knew his life would never be the same.

Watching the first man die by his hand was nothing that Blaine would ever be able to put into words. But a piece of his heart broke away, a piece of his innocence was lost, and a piece of his soul was corrupted forever.

_Dear Blaine,_

_I don't know what to say as much as you didn't. Thank you for telling me. Just know that I still love you. You're still the Blaine Anderson I fell in love with two years ago, and nothing can change that. You're doing what they order you to do, and that's just how the way it has to be._

_Don't let this change you. It doesn't have to._

_Love Kurt._

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><p>And second, how it felt to be shot.<p>

Oh, he had hoped that he would last the four years without experiencing it, just like every other. And he certainly wasn't the first to go down - three had already died and Blaine wasn't naive enough to think that this was the end.

It was only meant to be a simulation, they had told them. Of course, the army liked to lie, liked to 'keep them on their toes'. So when the real enemy jumped out, they were shooting without thinking. Blaine had only just had time to think about how natural it was that their reaction was to shoot, when it happened. One minute he was standing, the next everything was a haze. Dimly, he was aware of the sound of screaming. It took a few minutes for him to realize the noise was coming out of his own mouth, that the blood at his side was from him, that he was going into shock. And then the pain hit, and nothing else could make sense.

Blaine came to in the medical tent, immediately wishing he hadn't. They had given him morphine, and he couldn't imagine how the pain must have felt before he had gotten the shot. He would keep his leg, but the limp would probably always stay with him. And he was off duty until he could stand. No chance of getting discharged of course - if his arms could still work, he could still hold a gun.

But there were no words. Pain was just a term that people used when they couldn't understand what it was like. Blaine couldn't even use that now.

_Dear Blaine,_

_I don't care how many times you tell me you're okay. YOU GOT SHOT. _

_This is what I was afraid of. I know it was only your leg this time, but what happens when you come up against someone with better aim? What if -_

_No, I won't. I know they can't discharge you because it's not serious enough. I know you're already back on your feet along with the rest of them. I know you won't give up. But please please please, watch your back. Keep safe. And come home to me._

_Love Kurt._

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><p>Six months left, and Blaine was sent out on combat.<p>

He had no warning, no time to send out any letters. He simply woke up one morning with the rest of his group and was sent off. No insight as to where they were going, no idea how long they would be. They all just went.

It ended up being three months - three months that Blaine would never be able to remove from his mind, as much as he wished he could. Three months with no contact to normality. Three months of watching sane men lose themselves in the battle.

Blaine was very lucky. Fourteen of his group died in those three months. He and the rest were eventually pulled out when it was realized that the battle was hopeless. And when they finally left, Blaine still had no idea what they had been fighting for, or even who they were against. And it made him sick.

_All this mindless killing for nothing. _

Upon arriving back at the base, Blaine collapsed. After sleeping almost forty hours straight - a 'luxury' granted to the group - he pulled himself back out of bed and noticed the letters. One from his mother, one from Wes... and three from Kurt.

Of course he had known it was happening, but the tears still began to slip down his face as he read the letters which grew steadily more panicked. Blaine knew Kurt thought he was dead. After all, word would definitely had gotten back saying that men had been killed in combat - a combat Kurt by now had figured that Blaine was sent away on.

He replied straight away, telling Kurt that he was alive, apologizing over and over and ... nothing else. He just couldn't try to explain what he had been through.

He didn't sign it with love either. They had stopped using love - Blaine didn't know when, but they just had. Maybe it was easier that way.

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><p>Kurt's reply came four weeks later, just when Blaine had finally allowed himself to start counting down the days until he could leave.<p>

_I'm glad you're alright._

And Blaine knew he couldn't have expected anything more. He told himself that Kurt didn't love him anymore, that Kurt was happy with someone else - after all, there werea lot of other gay guys in New York - and it was okay. And the only reason he was crying was for the horror he had seen. Nothing else.

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><p>Stepping off that plane was like a dream come true.<p>

Everything was different. The sun was brighter, the air fresher. Blaine felt himself smile without realizing it because he was _home_. No matter how much home might have changed in his absence, no matter how many friends were long gone, off to other lives, it was still home.

Blaine had asked Wes to pick him up, being the only friend who still lived in the area. He could have asked his parents, but Blaine didn't know if he was ready to face them yet. After all, war hadn't made him any more of a man, like he knew his father had been expecting. War had only sickened him with humanity and told him to stay far far away from anything like that for the rest of his life.

Watching the rest of his group run into the arms of various girlfriends was always going to hurt, Blaine knew that. But he knew Kurt was in New York, knew he wouldn't be here and Blaine couldn't hope for anything more. He couldn't hold onto the past. Instead, he held his head high and searched the room until his eyes fell on his childhood friend. Wes hadn't changed a bit, yet had somehow changed so much. Blaine knew he was the same. His wife, Jessica, was standing by his side, her stomach showing clear signs of pregnancy. And both were smiling at him.

Blaine limped across the terminal and straight into Wes's arms. "I've missed you, man," his friend murmured. Blaine swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to greet Jessica. It may have taken the girl a long time to warm up to him in their high school days, but now they got along like a house on fire. Or at least, they had, before he had left. Blaine had to keep reminding himself that things were different now.

"So," he said awkwardly, shifting his bag. "Where are you dropping me?"

Wes elbowed him lightly as they turned to leave the terminal. "Nowhere, idiot. You can stay with us for a bit before you find somewhere. Plus, David's coming back to town in a few days and he's dying to see you."

Blaine smiled, then found he was unable to wipe it away. It was the first genuine smile he could remember having in the last four years, and he certainly had reason for it. He could see his friends again and even go and visit his family when he was ready. He could sleep in late, spend his days playing guitar and writing songs. He could start doing auditions, playing at gigs. He could finally go after that record label he was dying for.

He could have a life again. His own life.

The car ride back to Wes's place was silent as if the two in the front didn't know what to say to him. Blaine didn't mind - after coming from a place where everything was noise all the time, silence was a nice change. He simply stared out the window and watched the world go by, a world that he would somehow have to readjust to, become a member of once again.

Blaine wasn't sure if he could.

Wes's house was beautiful, clearly well taken care of and reflecting the status of his family. Blaine knew Wes had begun studying to be a lawyer in Senior year meaning he would get out earlier than the others and clearly it was treating him well. Blaine knew he would have to get caught back up on everybody's lives and even that was daunting. After all, he had nothing to offer for his past four years except to never do what he had done.

"Here's your room."

Wes pushed open the door in his and Jessica's house, revealing a large guest room. But the luxury of the room - a luxury that he hadn't experienced in so long - was completely ignored as he stepped towards the bed. "You -"

"When you asked me to be the one to get you, I went out to your parents place and picked it up. I thought you might like to -"

Wes's words were cut off as Blaine turned, throwing his arms around his friend. "Thank you, so much" he said, trying to put everything into the words.

"You're welcome." Wes pulled away, smiling at him. Blaine turned back to the bed and picked up his guitar, running his hands across the strings. The guitar he had gotten for his seventeenth birthday, the one that all of the Warblers had combined to buy him when they realized how worn his old one was. "So, you'd better start calling in some favors, hadn't you?"

Blaine nodded idly, positioning his fingers on the strings and strumming lightly. Even after four years, it still came naturally to him, and he knew music was his soul. So now it was time to make it his career, his life. And Wes was right, it was time to start making those calls.

But as his friend left, promising to call him for dinner, Blaine finally felt the smile drop off his face. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't stop himself from feeling incomplete. He knew it would take time to get used to being back, but he also knew that he wasn't coming back to everything he had left.

Yes, he had known things would change. He just didn't realize how much it would change _him_ when it did.

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><p>"<em>Even if I come back, even if I die<em>

_Is there some idea to replace my life?_

_Like a father to impress; like a mother's mourning dress,_

_If you ever make a mess, I'll do anything for you."_

The sounds of the house in action around him were almost soothing. Wes was at work but Jessica was home doing various jobs around the place and occasionally popping her head in to listen to a song or see if he needed anything. Her friends often stopped in to see her, so it was no surprise for Blaine to hear the front door opening. He just kept on singing.

"_I have called you preacher; I have called you son,_

_If you have a father or if you haven't one,_

_I'll do anything for you. _

_I did everything for you."_

As he strummed the last few notes, Blaine simply stared down at his fingers. It was amazing how something so insignificant as playing guitar could impact him so strongly. Instead of a gun in his hands, there was a tool that could bring beauty.

After a few seconds of silence, where Blaine considered what song to sing next, it happened.

"It's good to see being there didn't take your voice away."

Blaine's head snapped up so fast that he almost cracked his neck. For a second, his eyes refused to take in the sight in front of him. Because there was _no __way _that Kurt was standing in his doorway. Kurt, who was supposed to be in New York, moved on with his life, not here to see Blaine..

"Can I come in?"

_Oh, __right_. Blaine nodded quickly, placing his guitar on the bed beside him gently as Kurt stepped through the door, shutting it lightly behind him. Blaine opened his mouth to say something, then paused. He had no idea what to say after all.

Kurt pulled out his desk chair and sat down across from him, crossing a leg gracefully over the other. Blaine took a second to take in the boy in front of him - as fashionable as ever, Kurt definitely looked older. But he was still as gorgeous as ever and still... _Kurt_.

And now there was a moment of awkwardness because Blaine still hadn't said anything and Kurt was beginning to look concerned, like he shouldn't be there. Blaine swallowed before whispering hoarsely, "Kurt. You're - you're here."

And that was all it took. His self resolve shattered and he burst into tears - the first time he had cried since his return. Kurt was across the gap in a second, sitting on the bed next to him and wrapping him in his arms, the reverse of how it had been when Blaine had left all those years ago. He couldn't even know for sure why he was crying, all he knew was that Kurt was _here_, and he didn't even know what _that _meant. But the tears kept falling and Kurt's hands were on his back, rubbing in soothing circles and he just let himself go. He could hear Kurt's ragged breathing in his ear and knew he was crying as well.

Blaine finally got control of himself, pulling away a little to wipe his eyes. Kurt's arms unwrapped from around him and Blaine looked up to see him biting his lip, his own eyes bloodshot. "I - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come -"

"No! No.. no, you should have. I mean, I ... Kurt, I don't even _know_."

He knew he was sounding like an idiot, but somehow Kurt understood. Kurt had always understood, after all. "Neither do I. I would have come earlier, but we were in the middle of runway shoots and I couldn't ... and I didn't know if you wanted..."

"I didn't know if _you_ did. I would have called, but I just -" Blaine broke off, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. "Kurt, I thought you had moved on."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, the effect slightly ruined by the single tear slipping down his cheek. "I told you I would wait for you, Blaine, and I have. And even if I hadn't... I would still come to see you. You're still my friend."

Blaine nodded, his lip trembling. He simply stared at Kurt for a few seconds, desperately fight with his feelings but knowing what he was about to say needed to be said. "Kurt, you don't love me. You love the Blaine who was here four years ago, and I'm not him anymore... I've changed. I've been in war, I'm practically handicapped," he gestured to his leg roughly. "I've k-killed. You can't love someone like me."

He ducked his head, staring down at his bed and knotting his hands together. A second later, another pair of hands were in his, gently pulling them apart. "Hey. Hey, look at me." A second of silence. "Please?"

And even after four years, Blaine couldn't resist anything Kurt asked.

Kurt's eyes were glittering the deep blue that Blaine knew was a sign of strong emotion. He just didn't know what Kurt was thinking, and that was what scared him. "Blaine, I know you think that, that's why I was worried about coming. And I don't even know how you feel, you could have moved on and I could be wasting my time right now. But I know who you are inside hasn't changed. I walk in here to see you playing guitar, and you were lost in your music. That's the Blaine I knew."

Kurt sniffed quietly and Blaine released one of his hands to wipe the tears off Kurt's face. He knew it was an intimate gesture, but it felt too right to not do so. "And I'm not naive enough to think that we're going to get together right now and everything will go back to normal. The essence of who we are hasn't changed, but parts of us have. You've been through a _lot_, and I'm living in New York now and I can't leave. I don't know what you're planning to do with your life ... are you still going to do music?"

Blaine nodded. "That's the plan. I'm working through my connections but ... I don't think Westerville is going to get me there. So I don't know right now -"

"Come to New York with me."

Blaine froze, staring at Kurt who looked shocked at himself but still so confident. "I - do you mean that?"

"I don't want to pick up where we left off, I want to start over. I want to get to know you all over again and fall in love with you. And I _know_ I can - I'm already in love with the core of you, Blaine, I just have to discover what's changed in these four years and fall in love with that too. But I need to know whether you think youcan too, whether you can fall in love with me again."

Blaine laughed quietly. "Kurt, I never fell _out _of love. I don't know why we stopped saying it in our letters, but I've loved you since the day I left. You were the thought that got me through every awful thing I ever had to do over the past four years. And - and yes, to New York. Yes to starting over. Yes to everything."

Were they making the right decision? Could two people spend four years apart, leading two very separate and different lives, and still claim to love each other? Would Kurt even be capable of loving Blaine once he learned everything that had happened, when he found out that Blaine was having nightmares every night, still jumping at loud noises and going for a gun he no longer had in his possession? Would it even be safe for them to be together?

Blaine didn't know. All he knew right now was that Kurt fit in his arms exactly the way he had four years ago and it felt just as right as it always had.

His entire life had changed as a result of war. But Kurt was the sole constant that he had never realized was still there, the one he had given up on who had never left. Blaine hadn't been so morbid to believe he would never be loved again but he was sure he had lost his chances with Kurt forever.

As it turned out, Kurt was probably going to be his forever.

Life changes. Love always remains.

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><p><strong>Blaine's song is <em>For The Widows In Paradise, For The Fatherless In Ypsilanti <em>by Sufjan Stevens for no reason other than personally wanting to see Glee cover one of his songs.**


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